


Laying On The Floor

by Lilly_C



Category: Killer Instinct (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, POV Female Character, Shippy, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-21
Updated: 2008-03-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilly_C/pseuds/Lilly_C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Spoiler for Die Like An Egyptian.</p>
<p>Danielle POV.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Laying On The Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Spoiler for Die Like An Egyptian.
> 
> Danielle POV.

I felt the bed rising when Jack got up to leave, he thought I was still asleep but I was watching him as he clumsily stumbled about my apartment searching for his clothes. A sense of satisfaction washed over me like a tidal wave when I saw all the scratches on his back. The marks I left as a reminder of our night of uncontrollable passion.

Last night was the first time, our first time. It was amazing; I want more than one night. No man has ever made love to me the ways that Jack did, I came so hard I blacked out and when I woke up he was leaving another love bite, this time on my breast.

I stifled a chuckle when Jack mumbled that he couldn’t find his sweater. It made me smile because I picked it up and put it under my pillow while he was napping. 

I put his sweater on before I got out of bed. I’ve been wearing it since he left, it’s too big but I needed to feel him close to my body to inhale his scent, the same scent that is lingering on my sheets, clinging to my skin like a perfectly fitted glove.

All I wanted to do was stay wrapped up and content with the reminders. I can’t help it, I keep on sniffing his sweater inhaling his scent getting high without narcotics but with memories.

Waiting, watching, expecting the phone to ring and Jack’s number to show on my caller ID. He’d ask me if I found his sweater and can he come over for it, although we both know that he’d come over for more than his sweater. He’d stay and we’d make love all over again, reacquainting ourselves with every freckle, every curve, every inch of our skins, fulfilling each other entirely.

His sweater was lying on the floor; it smells just like he does.


End file.
